


Eu sou...

by kloppinthekop



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Fluff, Google Translate and Duolingo are your friends, M/M, Pining, Pining and then fluff, Tottenham Hotspur, Tottenham Hotspur F.C., boys being boys being oblivious, deledier, includes a good sprinkling of naughty words, minimal usage and possible bastardization of a beautiful language, until they're not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kloppinthekop/pseuds/kloppinthekop
Summary: Dele isum idiotabut so is Eric. Pining ensues.





	Eu sou...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [totaleclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totaleclipse/gifts).



> For the following footballkinkmeme prompt: "[ **Dele Alli/Eric Dier Dele confess to Eric in portuguese:** Deli knows how portuguese is for Eric, so he tries to learn it so he can say how much he loves him portuguese](https://footballkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/887.html?thread=30583)"
> 
> I meant to write this fic from Dele's point of view, but the Eric in my head popped up and demanded to be heard! So I complied. (⊙ヮ⊙) P.S. I can't remember if Eric Dier drinks alcohol or not, so apologies if he doesn't. My fictional version of him does (if only because it's necessary to put up with the shenanigans of his fellow teammates. In which he frequently takes part, of course).
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction; please don't go tweeting Dele or Dier or any other real person saying this shit happened, because it only happened in my head ok? :D

What the whole world understands, but Dele does not, is that Eric has loved him for ages. Like, ever since he saw him for the first time. Has fallen in love with him again each time he has scored a goal, or again when he has said something stupid, or again when he has said something unexpectedly genuine.

It’s pathetic, really.

Okay, so it’s actually a little bit cute, but not for Eric. For Eric, it is _torture._ Dele clearly has no fucking clue, is just a small puppy who has somehow blossomed into one of the most promising and most sought-after (and apparently, if the media is to be believed, one of the hottest) football players of his generation.

The little twat.

But it’s okay, because Eric loves him. And it’s not okay, because like, Eric _loves_ him.

Fuck. It’s such a chore, being Dele’s friend.

Eric sighs. Gets out of the car, walks round the long way (circling round the arse-end of the vehicle that is much too large for just the two of them), and opens Dele’s door for him.

Dele smiles at him beatifically. “Thank you, sir.” Finishes recording the incident on his phone, and Eric suspects he’ll find it in his Instagram notifications later, before hopping down a straightening out his silk bomber jacket. It’s floral, and Dele really shouldn’t be able to pull it off so well, but of course he does.

Like Eric said. A fucking chore.

He hopes he wins the next bet. He’s gonna burn the damn jacket.

❧

Eric doesn’t win the next bet, and on top of that, he’s been nutmegged by Dele in practice today. Eric loudly whinges that this is the _first and only_ time Dele has succeeded.

(He’s wrong.)

Delboy’s gonna pay.

But actually, Eric is paying, because he lost the stupid bet. He’s paying for some stupid drink, pink and orange and so girly he almost feels his balls shrivel up.

And the drink looks like it’s gonna knock him out, if he has to drink it. (He will, having lost the bet.) He lost count of how many different types of alcohol the bartender had chucked into the shaker before pouring out the luridly tropical cocktail into a glass, rimmed it with sugar (ugh), and stuck in not just a paper umbrella, but a flamingo-shaped toothpick too.

Ugh.

This really is just not Eric’s day. (Night.)

The lads all cheer when he returns to their table, a tray of drinks in hand. Mostly beers, and a couple of soda waters for the teetotalers. Except his. His cocktail looks practically toxic, like a radioactive bomb ready to blow up his stomach, or his masculinity.

Who is he kidding. He probably lost his masculinity a long time ago, caring for these lads on a night out like a mother hen rounding up her overly-adventurous chicks. (Why is it always him or Kane taking care of the rest? Oh right, that’s because they are the only sensible ones left.)

Maybe he needs this boozy-as-fuck drink. He takes a sip, expecting to grimace, but finds the taste delightfully fruity.

Fuck.

He takes another sip. The boys all roar with laughter. When he brings a tin of _mate_ to training next time, he’s not sharing his tea with any of them.

The drink _is_ good though. Eric sighs again.

Guess this is just who he is now.

❧

Dele’s not actually always an asshole. See, the thing is, most of the time he’s actually sweet. _Como açúcar_ , Eric thinks, and damn. Even the Portuguese side of his brain is betraying him. (He will never admit that he just compared Delboy to sugar, or he will be murdered. Hell, he’ll murder himself if it comes to that.)

Deep down, he’s a sap. And so is Eric.

It’s all a bit emotional.

But clearly Del is also a fucking _idiota_ , because he doesn’t know. And Eric is a bit of an idiot too (but definitely less dense than Delboy, definitely), because he’s too scared to say it out loud. To admit to Dele that yeah, even if he was jokin’, meeting him was also the highlight of his year.

God, he’s such a trainwreck.

But the season is off to a good start, so he’s not gonna be startin’ anything that could endanger their ability to play together, to be good teammates. To be good friends.

The best, in fact.

Eric would rather suffer in silence if it means he has Dele’s stupid non-jokes and banter to fill up the days, in exchange for keeping the secret. In exchange for being a coward.

It’s okay. It’s not perfect, but in the end, it’s okay.

 _Ele não sabe como me sinto_.

❧

It’s midseason, and the team has been firing on all cylinders. They’re five points above Arsenal, and Dele has been playing like a dream. Eric can’t help but be proud of him. The banter is also well and thriving, especially after Dele’s latest goal celebration.

“The fuck was that, Delboy?” Eric tries to look stern, but Dele just laughs and tucks up into his side, giving him a hug that wipes the scowl off his face.

Yeah, he’s a goner.

Dele skips over to Sonny, gives him their special handshake. Eric can’t stop his heart from nearly beating out of his chest, even though he’s seen this a million times before, has been the first one at Dele’s side after a goal over and over again.

Maybe it’s just time intensifying the emotions brewing in his chest, leaves of love that have steeped for almost too long.

That thought’s even too sappy for Eric, and he shakes away the feeling. Son is now copying Dele’s goal celebration dance, and he’s gonna have to kill him too, but… he can hear Dele’s peals of laughter, like an anime cartoon laugh, and thinks: nah, he can live. They can both live.

For now, at least.

❧

Eric finally gets payback on Dele when he sneaks up behind him in the parking lot after their next practice session and puts his gloved hands over Dele’s eyes. He hears a high-pitched squeal, followed by an indignant: “Diet! What the fuck!”

Eric is too busy laughing, and after he’s finished hunching over, pointing at Dele mockingly, he looks at him and can tell the anger is feigned. Puttin’ on a good show, the Delboy. “That yell!” Eric tells him, laughing again.

Dele looks at him with those large puppy eyes, and says, “I really thought I was bein’ mugged, you know!” Eric is still gasping for air, but the laughter has gentled. Dele’s nose is tucked into his snood, which Eric knows he’s stolen from their training gear. It looks soft. (Eric knows it’s soft, actually, because he’s stolen one too, and wears it when taking the dogs out for a walk on particularly cold winter mornings.)

“That was for the nutmeg, you plonker,” Eric tells him. He doesn’t have to explain himself really, this sort of behavior being normal between the two of them. But he explains anyway, and now it’s Dele’s turn to laugh. “Plonker? Seriously, how ancient are you, Dier?”

And yeah, sometimes Eric feels like an old man next to Dele’s youthful exuberance, but right now he’s feeling playful, and sticks out a hand to tickle Dele’s side.

“Urgh, get off me, dickhead!” he hears Dele say, garbled through both the laughter and his snood, which has slipped off his nose and is hanging off of Dele’s bottom lip. Eric wants to pull the snood down and kiss him, but he can’t. He hasn’t told him yet.

Instead, Eric picks him up, slings him over his shoulder, and carries Dele away from the car and back towards the pitch.

“Let me down, stupid! Where are you going?”

Eric just laughs, and laughs.

What an idiot, he thinks.

But also thinks: _Eu sou idiota também._

❧

Eric ends up dumping Dele’s skinny body onto the grass, and he collapses down next to him. He thinks of that interview from a while back, when he was bantering Dele, saying he always had to carry him. Thinks of how they laughed when the _idiota_ said he was single, ready to mingle. Tries not to think of, but thinks about anyway, Dele’s more softly spoken, more genuine words immediately after.

 _You know. I don’t think you can look for love. I think it finds you_.

Eric had laughed then, but he can’t deny it. Dele was right. Love finds you.

It just so happens that sometimes, the other person is really dumb.

But Eric loves him anyway, and as they lie on the grass of the training grounds at night, faces upturned toward a starry night sky, Eric thinks that even if Dele never finds out his true feelings, at least Eric knows: love has found him.

Dele has found him.

❧

They get up a short while later, brushing stray blades of grass off into the crisp air. It’s freezing now, and he's glad he’s got warm gloves on.

They huddle together for warmth, hugging each other as they make their way back to the car. Halfway there though, Dele stops in his tracks. Eric doesn’t know what’s going on.

“What’s up, Del? I’m freezing my balls off here, let’s get ourselves to the car.”

Dele pauses, scuffs the toe of his Adidas in the grass. “I… I have something to tell you,” he says. Takes a breath that Eric can feel, gusting across the side of his cheek.

Eric can tell this is something serious, and almost feels afraid. Could Dele be leaving? (Is this the day he had hoped would never come?)

To lighten the mood, for his own sake, he pastes on an unconvincing grin, and says “Yeah Delboy, go on then.”

But Dele doesn’t return his smile, just looks into his eyes, an intense gaze. “I practiced this, yeah? Took lessons online and everything.” Sticks a thumb into the hole in his stylishly ragged denim trousers, staring at his knee. “Well, learned from an app, actually.” If feet can be sheepish, well then Dele’s are now, as they inch closer to Eric’s own.

Dele exhales. “I…” He takes another gulping breath. “Eu…”

Eric’s been looking at Dele’s fumbling fingers, but now stares straight at Dele’s face. Is he… is he really…

“Eu sou… teu.” Dele finishes speaking in almost a whisper, a hair’s breath away from not speaking at all. Eric can’t believe what he has heard, thinks his ears must be deceiving him. A cruel trick, telling him to hear what he has longed to hear in dreams. But they are awake now, aren’t they? Dele couldn’t… could he?

But Dele seems to have gained conviction, despite a roaring silence from Eric’s end. In slow motion, Eric sees him move his hands toward Eric’s own, grasping the fingers that have somehow become clenched in his lap, in the folds of his boring, plain, khaki trousers.

Dele is always making fun of him. (Eric supposes he is always taking the piss out of Dele too, but it’s _different_ , he thinks.) Always picking at his clothes, saying they’re too baggy, or too boring, or too ugly. Eric supposes, in contemplative moments, that he may have internalized just a little bit of those comments, thinking that Dele might think he’s too boring. Too ugly.

But Dele’s hands are now holding his, nestled in his lap, atop those ugly, boring, baggy khakis. Could it be…

And yep, now they are staring into each others’ eyes, like a sappy rom-com, but Eric doesn’t regret anything, would watch a million rom-coms if it meant having moments like this. “Dele…”

And oh god, Dele _sniffles_ , like a little dog, and Eric can’t stay silent any longer. “Dele. Meu querido... Eu sou teu também.”

Dele shuffles his feet, tilts his head.

He clearly hasn’t understood.

“Idiot.” Eric smiles. “I am yours, too.”

❧

Next, they’re going to make Son teach them how to say it in Korean.

He’ll probably end up teaching them naughty words instead.

(That’s okay too, because when Eric calls Dele _jaji_ , with his terrible pronunciation and all, he’ll be calling him a dick but meaning it with love.)

Eu sou teu, _jaji_.

 _Eu sou teu_.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Como açúcar:_ like sugar (Portuguese)  
>  _Mate:_ a drink made from ground up yerba mate leaves, [popular with the Tottenham boys](https://www.telegraph.co.uk/world-cup/2018/06/10/englands-secret-world-cup-weapon-south-american-mate-tea/)  
>  _Ele não sabe como me sinto:_ He doesn’t know how I feel. (Portuguese)  
>  _Eu sou idiota também:_ I’m also an idiot. (Portuguese)  
>  _Eu sou teu:_ I am yours (Portuguese)  
>  _Meu querido:_ My sweetheart (Portuguese)  
>  자지, _jaji:_ dick (Korean)
> 
> I’m currently learning Portuguese on an online app, actually! So please forgive me (and feel free to correct me!) if I got anything wrong with my very rudimentary knowledge of the language. (I also don’t know Korean, but Google tells me my translation is correct, so it’s like a… 60% chance I got it right?) [Edit: eep I got the male pronouns wrong, but it should be fixed now. Thanks fam for looking out for your neighborhood _boba_!]
> 
> I am imagining Dele's floral bomber jacket to look like the one Karamo is wearing in [this photo](https://qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-e5de7c0f588fbf62cc5414e83c001d49).
> 
> Comments and kudos are much loved and appreciated! You can also wave hello to me at my tumblr: <http://dr-azumi-fujita.tumblr.com> (formerly adleriarty)


End file.
